


A Business Arrangement

by junko



Series: Senbonzakura's Song [6]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 14:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Captain Kyouraku dumps Daisuke, Byakuya's teahouse spy, at the doorstep, an incensed Byakuya chases after him.  Renji is left making awkward conversation....</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Business Arrangement

“I will be certain Captain Kyōraku finds his way out. See to Daisuke, Renji.”

Wait, what? Byakuya was leaving Renji with the… with Daisuke? Renji started tossing off the covers in a hurry. “Whoa! Wait a minute, don’t you think you’d be better at--?” 

But, Byakuya had already flashed out the door. 

The only evidence of the captain’s passing was the gentle settling of the hems of Daisuke’s kimono silks. 

Meanwhile Renji’s own shunpo was far less graceful having mostly only managed a high-speed stumble off the bed. He got as far as the dressing table, his hand closing around the empty space where Byakuya’s sleeve had been only a second ago. Renji’s flash step breeze sent the files on the table scattering every which way.

“Ah, shit,” Renji murmured, kneeling down to start picking them up before the papers got soaked with the melting snow that’d collected in front of the open doorway.

“May I be of service to my lord?” Daisuke asked. He kept his blond head bowed, but he’d crawled in over the threshold and started to collect the files that the wind was trying to pull outside.

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” Renji nodded. “And, shut the door for us, would you? I’m freezing my ass off.”

His naked ass. 

Daisuke did as he was told and the door slid shut with a firm ‘thunk.’ Without a word, he went back to gathering the strewn files. 

Sitting down cross-legged on the tatami, Renji pretended to organize the papers. As he shuffled them, he checked Daisuke out. From what Renji could figure, Daisuke was probably a good-looking guy, though, with all this perfect subservience, he had still to properly lift his head so Renji could see. 

But, he had an artfully messy tangle of blond curls that looked like the sort it’d be soft when you ran fingers through it. Or silky when you grabbed a fistful to yank.

It disturbed Renji that he’d even had that last thought. He shoved it out of his mind with a grunt.

Renji never wanted to be that guy, the one who would take advantage the moment that he had a little bit of power. Especially not since, if fate hadn’t interceded, the person kneeling on the floor could be Rukia or Ozuru. 

Had Daisuke been sleeping peacefully one night when thuggish teahouse ‘recruiters’ grabbed him? Did his friends and family wake up to find him gone? 

Maybe Daisuke had sold himself into the life. Renji knew some people who’d signed on willingly. Anything seemed better than Inuzuri and the pimps made teahouses sound like a promised land filled with silks, sweets, and all the sake you could drink. What was little flesh in trade for life of a beautiful prince or princess, guarded from the harsh world inside a gilded cage? 

But it wasn’t at all like that when Renji and his crew’d broken in to try to get Rukia and Ozuru out, was it? No, there were barred cages with dirt floors that were filled with desperate, starving souls--women mostly, but some boys. Some of them sick, all of them hungry. The only thing that seemed to flow freely was opium… and tears.

Probably first district teahouses had a shinier veneer, but it was the same shit underneath.

And they’d almost lost Rukia to that life…. 

Poor Ozuru’d given his life to try to escape that horrible hellhole.

With a barely suppressed growl, Renji stood up and stomped over to the dresser. He shoved the papers back into their respective folders. Renji was angry at himself for not being strong enough to save everyone. 

Again. 

It seemed he was never strong enough.

Renji snarled over his shoulder, “If you want to make a run for it, you should do it now. I ain’t going to stop you.”

With a hissing intake of breath, Daisuke seemed to consider it. When Renji glanced back at him, Daisuke sat seiza, bolt upright, papers forgotten in his lap, and stared hard at the door… or rather the spot where Zabimaru stood propped against the wall nearby.

Renji shook his head. “You make a play for that zanpakutō on your way out, deal’s off. That’s my Zabimaru.” When Renji bent down to pick up a few of the remaining papers, he gave Daisuke’s thigh a little nudge. “You hear me?”

When Daisuke turned his head, Renji’s hand shot out and he held Daisuke’s face firmly by the jaw. With an old fear coiling in his guts, Renji scanned Daisuke’s eyes for telltale signs. Pupils looked normal. Not high now, at least. Not that it was always so easy to tell with opium.

Daisuke stilled under Renji’s touch, as if bracing for violence. “I would never dare touch a shinigami’s zanpakutō, my lord.”

Renji released him. Turning away, Renji tried to calm his beating heart and remind himself that this was not Rukia, not the past. “Just go, if you’re going to, huh? Byakuya’ll be back in a second.”

“But, I… I’ve no place to go,” Daisuke whispered, as though to himself. Trembling hands still clutched the papers in his lap. “And the bodyguards… they’ll hunt for me.”

Oh, right. Renji forgot that the kid would’ve been escorted by at least one bodyguard. ‘Guard,’ Renji thought with a snort, ‘warden’ more like. 

Plus, Daisuke was a ryoka. Though Renji didn’t see a kidō ribbon around his neck or his wrist, there had to some kind of spelled item on his person that kept the gates from crashing down and alarms sounding. Probably whatever it was could be used as a tracking device. Dump it, and alarms went off; keep it, and shinigami honed in on you in a flash.

“Fuck,” Renji said dejectedly. He went back over to Byakuya’s dressing table and slotted the remaining pages into their appropriate files. Now the only ones left were the ones Daisuke had. 

Renji looked over at him again. Such a rangy thing Daisuke was—all legs and arms and a lot of ‘not quite there yet, but starting to grow into a strapping young man. He figured it must be that and the crazy, mess of unruly hair that reminded Renji so strongly of Ichigo.

Daisuke must have felt Renji’s gaze on him, because he looked up and their eyes met. Renji had a sudden urge to say he was sorry that he’d even suggested escape since there wasn’t anything for it, and Renji opened his mouth to tell Daisuke so, when Daisuke blurted, “Why do you care? I mean, pardon my boldness, my lord, but why even suggest such a thing? I thought you were _with_ my lord Captain.”

“Well, I’m _with_ him, probably all the ways you mean that, but we don’t agree on this, okay?” Renji said. He glared down angrily at Daisuke for a long moment, before letting it go with a shrug. “Look, it’s nothing to you, but a brother of mine got killed when I tried to spring him from a teahouse. It went down about as well as you might expect, given I wasn’t much bigger than you and I had jack-all to fight with besides these,” Renji raised his fists to show Daisuke, but dropped them quickly with a sigh. 

“Oh.” Daisuke’s voice was small, but curious. The eyes that watched Renji’s every move were wide. Renji wondered what Daisuke was thinking looking at him like that, but probably he was too well-trained to blurt out ‘what kind of moron were you, thinking you could fight yakuza?’

Renji turned back to the files, shuffling them around as he organized his thoughts. “Eh, at least it wasn’t a complete loss. One of us got away. And I got off lightly with a public beating and these for theft of teahouse property,” he said, jabbing at the two circular tattoos on his right arm distractedly. 

“Oh!” Daisuke said, “I never would have recognized those as punishment tattoos.” Daisuke’s hands flew to his mouth as though trying to push the words back in… Huh, was he was supposed to act innocent of tattoos? He must have seen his share of punishment ones and gang and, well, probably everything imaginable.

Renji gave Daisuke a kind laugh, and explained with a gesture to the whole arm and the rest of the ink, “Yeah, that’s kind of the point of the rest of this. At least, at first,” Renji said, with a glance at where Zabimaru stood. “To begin with, I needed a bit of cover so I could get into Academy and get the fuck up and out.” Renji’s eyes skipped over Daisuke guiltily and he murmured, “No offense.”

When Daisuke sucked in a breath, Renji thought maybe he’d been too cruel, rubbing Academy in the kid’s nose like that. He turned, ready to apologize for being such a dick, and saw Daisuke clutching one of the papers that had a photo attached to it. He looked up at Renji with wide eyes, “You’ve found him, the bandit king?”

“The who, what?” Renji said, taking the paper offered and scanning the picture. Renji glanced down at Daisuke, suddenly aware he was still standing around naked while Daisuke knelt there in his fine silks. Renji shifted a little to the side to not be so… in his face, and said, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I told the Lord-Captain Kuchiki about a lover of mine who called himself the bandit king and brought me tea and promises of other riches from the captain’s stores.” Daisuke explained, “That’s him.”

Renji glanced at the photo. One of the runners? What kind of shit luck was it that Byakuya had picked the guy masquerading as a bandit king to guard his cousin?

Going back over to the dresser, Renji looked at the files. Fuck if it wasn’t the guy he’d had his own theories about. “He’s a transfer, from the Fifth,” Renji said, matching the picture to the file. “I was going to show this to Byakuya because I couldn’t figure out why we took this guy. I thought maybe he was a kido expert, but he ain’t. He ain’t much of anything, in fact. Then I saw this,” Renji showed Daisuke the signature page, “Who signed him on? Miisho.”

Daisuke nodded, but Renji realized the kid couldn’t have any idea what he was talking about. 

The door swooshed open with Byakuya’s return. Byakuya’s face was red and snow clung wetly to his hair. “I swear that man lives to torment me—him and his partner.”

Byakuya blinked, seeming to take in the scene: Renji standing naked by the dressing table, files in hand, and Daisuke in his deep emerald silks, his head pressing instantly to the floor. Renji the oddest impulse to tug at his hair, fix it somehow, since he could see in the mirror that it hung in ragged rusty strings in front of his eyes. He must look like some kind of wild thing compared to the perfectly put-together Daisuke.

Byakuya looked to him, as if for an explanation, “Renji?”

“Daisuke ID’d the bandit king,” Renji said, trying to sound professional while blushing up a storm. It was weird, but he’d paid only minimal attention to his nakedness when it was just him and Daisuke. Now that Byakuya was back, Renji felt keenly… underdressed.

“Oh, indeed?” Byakuya said. Taking the file Renji offered, he shook the snow from his robe. Byakuya frowned at the papers. “This man’s not even a seated officer.”

“Yet, that is my lover, my lord,” Daisuke said, his head still on the floor.

“Perhaps, it’s not so surprising I didn’t recognize him,” Byakuya said thoughtfully. “I have so few interactions with the unseated.”

Grabbing his hakama from the back of the chair, Renji shook them out, thinking to at least get a little dressed. As he turned the fabric around hunting for the front, he said, “Kind of makes sense it’d be someone no one notices, who can’t raise in rank… a nobody. Guy like that might get off on being big shot outside the walls.” 

“Leave those,” Byakuya said just as Renji was stepping into the hakama. “I’d rather continue this conversation in bed.”

Renji flinched and shot a glance at Daisuke, who thankfully still had his face to the floor. “Uh, yeah, but in case you haven’t noticed, we’ve got a guest.”

Byakuya didn’t even glance backwards as he made his way to the bed. His nose was in the files, as he flipped through the jacket, “Indeed. Daisuke can serve us. If dinner hasn’t gone cold,” Byakuya said as he crawled into bed. With a slight shiver, he pulled the blankets around his shoulders. “It’s nasty out there. Far better to spend the evening snuggled up.”

“What?” With his pants halfway up, Renji stopped. He’s brain had stuttered to a halt after ‘Daisuke can serve us.’ “Are you kidding me? You know how I feel about… all that.”

“Yes, well, this is hardly ‘all that.’ Daisuke will simply pour sake while we three discuss the matter of the bandit. Surely, there’s nothing you can object to in that, is there?”

Except, the whole awkward. Not to mention the fact that this was exactly what people paid for in the teahouses. Was Daisuke going to laugh at their jokes and tell them how handsome they were all night, too?

But, Byakuya gave Renji a look that could only be interpreted as ‘I’ve had a bad day, couldn’t you do this one thing for me?’ 

Renji let out a sigh of defeat. “Okay, fine,” he agreed grumpily. “But do something for me? Ring for another plate. I ain’t eating, if he doesn’t.”

Byakuya quirked up an eyebrow, but he did as Renji asked and said, “Very well.” 

As a consolation to his shredded dignity, Renji brought along the hakama and dropped them on the floor near his side of the bed. Maybe next time if he had to jump up in a hurry, his pants wouldn’t have to be halfway across the room. 

Grumpily, Renji plunked himself down on the edge of the bed to unhook his socks. They’d gotten wet, so he tossed them in direction of the dressing table. Then, he shouldered his way back under the covers to the end of the bed where Byakuya waited for him, reading.

“So what did Captain Kyōraku have to say when you caught up with him? Anything interesting?” Renji wondered.

Byakuya glanced over and gave Renji a grimace, “Interesting perhaps, but nothing helpful. He seems to think everything is some kind of game.”

“Yes, Captain Kyōraku loves his games. I’ve learned to play all the gentlemen’s games, though he likes children’s games, too,” Daisuke said. He scooted over to the dinner tray, somehow managing to look graceful while doing the whole thing on his knees. Eyes averted, he poured Byakuya’s sake. 

“Indeed. Though I suspect Shunsui’s favorite by far is ‘cat and mouse,’” Byakuya said. “In fact, I trust everything we say will make its way back to the good captain?”

Daisuke flinched only be barest of twitches, before smiling and nodding an: “Of course, my lord.”

Did that mean Byakuya planned on doing one of those feed the enemy misinformation ploys? Or was that meant as a question of whose loyalty came first? 

Renji might as well give up hope following the conversation now. He reached a long arm down over the edge of the bed, to check what was for dinner. Byakuya smacked his hand lightly, but the basket’s top managed to bounce out of Renji’s grip with a clatter. 

“Let Daisuke do it.”

“But it’s always what I do,” Renji said, making a point of rubbing the spot Byakuya’d hit as though he’d been mortally wounded, before righting the top. “Anyways, I’m hungry.”

Byakuya flashed Renji a little smirk, “I thought you wouldn’t eat until Daisuke did.”

“I was planning on giving him some,” Renji said. He hated how petulant his voice sounded, but he continued, anyway. “Besides, looks like sticky buns. We don’t need plates for them.”

Byakuya shook his head slightly in disapproval, but muttered, “Do as you like.”

Daisuke watched their conversation under lidded lashes. In that slight sly smile on Daisuke’s face, Renji could almost hear the report to Captain Kyōraku: ‘subjects bicker like old married couple.’ 

Shooting a defiant glance at Byakuya, Renji opened the basket again. After sticking one of the soft buns in his mouth, handed another to Daisuke unceremoniously. Taking it with both hands, Daisuke bowed deeply. But, rather than eat it right away, Daisuke set it on the tray. Renji rolled his eyes. Of course Daisuke wouldn’t eat until Byakuya had.

Flopping over on to his back, Renji munched on the pork bun. It was a little cold, but still tasty.

He stared at the ceiling and listened to Byakuya and Daisuke.

“It’s a shame you spent so much of your day inside the Seireitei,” Byakuya said to Daisuke. “I hoped perhaps you’d have heard news of our former Third Seat, Miisho Ota.”

“I have heard some things already, my lord. I can tell you he’s the new master of the teahouses in the north and east now.” Daisuke said, “Though he favors my former establishment in the North First.”

“Does he reside there?”

“I believe so, my lord,” Daisuke said. “The gossip is that he’s the bastard son of some minor noble and has no other property to call his own. Thus, he counts the nightly profits greedily and there’s talk he may raise prices, in the hopes amassing his fortune that much quicker. Though I daresay that means he has no understanding of the northern clientele. Apparently, he refuses to listen to experience because he’s so anxious buy land inside the Seireitei, in order to house a noble bride.”

“The cousin,” Renji murmured. After he licked the last of the pork drippings from his fingers, Renji started to roll back over to snag another one. But, he’d barely shifted when Byakuya offered him the basketful. Renji took a couple and set them on his chest. “Oh, thanks.”

“Don’t get up. You look so relaxed like that,” Byakuya said with a fond smile. After setting the basket back, his fingers played with the ends of Renji’s hair where it spilled out onto the mattress. “Besides, they’re too cold for me. You might as well eat your fill. I plan to send all of this back to the kitchen for refreshing.”

Turning his attention back to Daisuke, Byakuya added, “And I intend to send you off as well. When Eishirō arrives, I’ll have him order you a taxi palanquin, something unmarked, and I’ll have him give you Hell butterfly missive. It will be small enough to hide easily. You know how they work?” Daisuke must have nodded because Byakuya continued: “You’ll use it to send word the moment you’ve heard anything about where Miisho and his ‘bride’ are hiding.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Renji was glad his face was turned toward the ceiling. He couldn’t have looked Daisuke in the eye. After all, only a few seconds ago Renji tried to offer Daisuke his freedom and saw much he’d wanted to take it. 

Now Byakuya was casually sending Daisuke back to that brothel like it was nothing, and putting him in extra danger.

To keep from saying something stupid, Renji stuffed a pork bun in his mouth. He could see how useful it was for Byakuya to have a spy, but he still hated the whole set-up. He hated it not only because of the whole teahouse situation, but also because Renji knew that no one gave a fuck about Daisuke’s life. Otherwise, Byakuya’d be sure to slip the kid a tantō or at least a fucking pocketknife, so he’d have a chance to defend himself should the shit hit the fan.

Eishirō showed up at the door. While Byakuya made his requests, Renji reached for his hakama. Shaking out the fabric, he tied the billowy legs around his waist and got up out of bed.

“Renji, what are you doing?” Byakuya snapped, as Renji pulled open the dressing table’s drawer and started hunting around.

“Looking for something.”

Byakuya dismissed Eishirō irritably, and then said, “Yes, obviously. What exactly are you looking for among my things?”

“You’ve got to have a letter opener or something, don’t you?”

“In the office,” Byakuya said. “Why do you need that right this minute?”

Renji stopped his rummaging and shut the drawer. This was stupid, anyway. Depending at what age he’d been indentured, Daisuke probably never held a knife in his life. Giving an untrained person a weapon pretty much guaranteed it’d end up in the enemy’s hands. 

But the way Daisuke had stared at Zabimaru made Renji wish there was something… “Hey,” Renji said turning around. “If you can give Daisuke a Hell butterfly that can be triggered at a later time, can you give him another spell, too?”

Byakuya gave Renji a look like he was entirely off his rocker.

“Look, I was just thinking it’d be nice if, you know, we could send Daisuke back to…” whorehouse wasn’t cool, he should probably just say, “…that place a little better armed. If you can make one spell he can hide, why not give him another one, like Hadō Thirty-One or something?”

Daisuke caught Renji’s eye and Renji could see the hope and gratefulness there. Renji looked away, fairly certain what Byakuya was going to say.

In fact, Byakuya was already shaking his head. “Yes, I understand your concern,” Byakuya said patiently. “But I haven’t the skill to make something like that in a hurry. A kidō master could do it, I suspect, at least in theory, but it takes months to prepare the butterfly for non-shinigami use. I can only offer those because we have them to hand. My family uses them for emergencies.”

Renji sagged, letting his butt rest against the dressing table. “Ah, right. Fuck then, can’t we slip him a tantō? All your retainers carry ‘em, don’t they?”

“Yes, but they’re mostly ceremonial,” Byakuya said. “Moreover, they’re all marked with Kuchiki crest. I doubt even an extremely skilled spy could hide such a thing from bodyguards and those who, no doubt, search for such things on a regular basis.”

Daisuke nodded.

That just about broke Renji, because Byakuya usually pretended like he had no idea how things were done in the teahouses, but he clearly knew—no, it was clearly his policy—to have his employees search for weapons. Renji crossed his arms in front of his chest. “It ain’t right.”

“What isn’t?” Byakuya asked. He’d been lying as he had been before—his feet near the pillows and shoulders and body covered—but, with a sigh, he pulled himself up to sit with his legs over the side of the bed.

Renji pursed his lips. Did he want to have this fight right now? Renji frowned and turned his face to the wall. “Forget it. I guess he’s your property, you can do whatever you want with him.”

Oops. Right spirit, wrong words.

“Oh! My fine lords shouldn’t fall out over someone like myself,” Daisuke said suddenly. He was still on his knees and his eyes stayed focused on the floor, but his voice was strong and steady. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, as I have done for the last hundred years.”

Had he, though? Renji knew that survival wasn’t exactly the same as doing all right, especially when you didn’t know any other life. “But—“

Daisuke looked up at Renji, then. Renji could see there was still a bit of desperation in those eyes, but his face had hardened with determination… and pride. “You are generous, my lord, and understandably so. But please believe me when I say I’m not without resources. And though I know nothing of sword or fist, I have other defenses.”

It was that glint of pride that made Renji drop the argument. How many times Renji said the same damn thing? ‘I’m no victim; let me fight my own way.’ Nodding, Renji said sincerely, “Yeah, of course you have. I meant no disrespect.”

After a moment, Byakuya cleared his throat, “Perhaps there is more I can do for you, Daisuke. There’s a password known to the managers of the teahouses that belongs to myself alone. Were you to use it, it would grant you access to emergency funds and hidden escape routes. Please know, however, it shouldn’t be treated lightly. Once it’s triggered, it can never be used again. It is meant for myself and my staff in case the worst befalls my clan and I’m left with no other recourses.”

Whoa, no wonder Byakuya didn’t want to give up his teahouses. Renji half-remembered Byakuya saying something about how they made a good fallback, but Renji had no idea it was this kind of thing.

Daisuke clearly understood the significance of the offer, too. Down went that head again, and he breathed, “No, my lord, your gift is too much, too generous!”

“I insist. The phrase is ‘Inuzuri blossom.’ Do not abuse it. It’s precious to me for many reasons.”

Right, because it was clearly a Hisana reference as well. Glancing up, Renji noticed Byakuya’s eyes were riveted to him, not Daisuke. The intensity of Byakuya’s gaze made it obvious that Byakuya was fully aware he’d just given the password to Renji, as well. 

Daisuke also glanced at Renji briefly, having no doubt recognized Renji’s accent as Inuzuri. Renji wanted to laugh and say, ‘Nice thought, but I ain’t nobody’s blossom,’ but then… suddenly Renji wasn’t sure, because the password could just as easily be a combination of Renji and Senbonzakura.

Byakuya let out a breath and said. “The matter is settled?”

Renji nodded. Even though Renji didn’t like this—none of it—Byakuya had given Daisuke a serious out. “Yeah,” Renji said honestly, “More than.”

“You’re certain?” Byakuya asked.

Trying to cop a bit of Daisuke’s subservient attitude, Renji dipped his head. He was sure he failed contrite, but he made a sincere effort. “Yeah, I… look, I’m just…” When words failed, Renji just gestured in Daisuke’s direction, “This stuff just brings back old shit, you know?”

Byakuya said: “Yes, I remember. Your ‘friend’ who worked the teahouses.”

Why did Renji swear he could hear air-quotes around friend? Oh, right. Byakuya still thought Renji had been talking about himself, not Rukia. Probably ought to just let that lie lie. “Yeah, that.”

“We’ve both had difficult days, Renji. Come back to bed?”

In lieu of an answer, Renji pushed himself upright and made his way back to bed. Halfway there, he untied and dropped the hakama. Crawling under the sheets, he leaned over to give Byakuya a little peck on the cheeks. “Hey,” Renji said softly into Byakuya’s ear, “Don’t pay no mind to me. I’ve been wound up since we woke up.”

This seemed to make Byakuya relax a little, and he, too, returned to the nest of blankets. “Indeed. Myself, as well.”

Renji stretched out for a slightly awkward kiss, given that they were shoulder to shoulder. Despite the funny angle, Byakuya seemed to appreciate it, as well as Renji’s hand cupping his face. Renji could have happily spent the next several minutes like that, tasting fine sake on Byakuya’s lips and tongue, but Renji was highly aware of their company. 

Byakuya sighed sadly when Renji pulled away. He grabbed Renji’s hand to hold it in both of his. Byakuya seemed worn out tonight, and, unusually, his eyes glanced up impatiently, watching for the door for a sign of Eishirō. It was clear he wanted nothing more than to be alone together. 

So, Renji bumped shoulders and whispered into Byakuya’s ear, “Soon.”

That brought out a small smile.

Daisuke kept his eyes on the floor during this whole exchange. Renji had no idea how the guy could manage it; if it were him, Renji’d be fidgeting and blushing up a storm all the while watching everything like it was some kind of ping-pong game. No wonder Daisuke made such a good spy. There was no way to even tell what the kid was thinking, the way he kept his face hidden.

Byakuya, on the other hand, was easy to read. He was done. Finished. In fact, he rested the point of his chin on his forearm. Still lightly holding Renji’s hand, he closed his eyes.

To Renji’s utter shock, in a moment, Byakuya’s breath came in rhythmic, shallow huffs.

He was asleep.

Renji couldn’t help but find it cute, but once again, Byakuya had left him on his own with Daisuke.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, I can't stand the idea that Renji is leaving in the morning, so I'm prolonging this evening by writing every single detail. My apologies for this sort of lackluster end to this section. More to come soon!
> 
> Thanks have to go, of course and always, to Josey, my dear friend and stalwart cheerleader and typo-spotter.


End file.
